Once Upon a December
by brokenmusicangel96
Summary: Placed in German-occupied Poland. Orihime is taken sent to her death, along with her brother. Grimmjow is an officer, trained to kill. They meet at the most unexpected place. But how can the most forbidden love survive through death, hate, suffering, and war? Rated M for Holocaust violence and later chapters. Grimm/Hime and slight Ichi/Hime; slight Grimm/OC. Sorry for any OOCness.
1. Departing

Well, I had just finished watch _the Pianist_, which to those wo haven't seen it, is an amazing movie! Anyways, and I was waiting for an idea to pop into my head for a story about Grimmjow and Orihime, and this seemed to fit perfectly!  
Please review, criticism welcome. Also, I apologize for any OOCness and If I offend anyone by this piece of writing, I am truly sorry, that was not my inttention.

Disclaimer : I don't own Grimmjow or Orihime, or any other characters from Bleach.

Warning : This story will contain Holocaust violence and disturbing writing parts. If you can't stomach gore and disgust, please don't read.

NOTE : I just changed what Concentration Camp there are at for reasons later on in the story. So it is no longer Auchwitz but Dachau.

* * *

_"Make the lie big, make it simple, keep saying it, and eventually they will believe it"._

_- Adolf Hitler_

* * *

Orihime Inoue remembered most things. But this, this was something that she would never forget, not until she died. Even then, perhaps, she would remember it. The war started a few years ago, the Germans had invaded her home – her country. She remembered that even before the war, her family - and other families - were very tight with money and the food was scarce. But now? Everything was worse. People were slaving away and in return they barely got anything, barely enough money to put food on the table. Still, Orihime didn't find this as bad as what was about to come. When the Soviets had also invaded her home, and the Germans had fought back, everything was destroyed. From farms to food stores. Finally, it was divided. Poland was divided. One side for the Germans, the other for the Soviets. And it didn't matter which side you were on, what part of Poland you were in….you were sent away.

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_Heil Hitler. _

That was how Grimmjow Jeagerjaques greeted his father every day. No, not a simple hello. No, that shows disrespect to his father. And Grimmjow couldn't allow his father to be disrespected, even if he did hate the man and wanted nothing more than to slit his throat and watch him bleed to death. No. He couldn't allow it.

Being born son to the most powerful officers in the Schutzstaffel, he had certain…duties that were expected of him. Be honored that Adolf Hitler was trying to be rid of the devils that plan to poison the Arian race. Have joy when you see the devils and bastards has they were shipped off to the ghettos. Be joyful when they starve, when they die in the streets. When they scramble for food, money, clothes – everything.

Be glad that the Jews were going to be exterminated.

Even so, being born into this privileged life, Grimmjow couldn't help but think the exact opposite of his father. True, he was young, only nineteen. He had been apart of the Hitler Youth for nearly nine years. He was still in his teens, or a better stage to put him in would be rebellious. He wanted nothing more than to defy every law that has been placed out before him since he was seven years old. Follow Hitler. Follow the Führer. But most of all, do not associate yourselves with Jews.

Being a part of the SS, Grimmjow had seen many casualties towards those that were not of the Arian race. He had seen Jews being shot in the middle of the street, for no reason. He had been there when they stormed into a ghetto, seen a man jump out of his window before his troops could shoot him. He saw, as he stood, rifle in hand, four SS soldiers round a family into the streets of the ghetto. They yelled at them to run. The Jews did. But then the soldiers let loose their bullets. Grimmjow couldn't help the disgust and the shock in his eyes. And nothing but pure hate as the soldiers drove over the bodies, some were still living. But not for long.

Fuckin' scum.

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Orihime stood near the window of her new home. If you could even call it that. She watched as others pulled their belongings into their new homes. This ghetto wasn't new, but Orihime and her brother had been moved here recently, only a few weeks ago. IT was a tiny thing, with only a small kitchen, a tiny bedroom, and a bathroom where the sink was hanging off the wall, a slow trickle of water gradually making the pail beneath it full. The food was scarce, only a loaf of bread, a sliver of cheese from their previous home, and if they were lucky, a gram of meat. But that was rare. It was more likely to see someone dead in the street than to have enough food to fill the belly.

"Orihime…get away from the window!" She heard Sora yell, pulling her arm and yanking her away from the window. He pushed her away, closed the window and pulled the curtains shut. He turned back to her with angry eyes.

"Fool! We have to keep low! We don't know what they will do to us if we are just sitting around. Don't let them see you so simply." He said, concern as well as anger etched in his voice. Orihime looked at him, then looked down, knowing he was right. Just the other day, she had seen a woman, no too much older than herself, sitting alone on a bench. When two Germans had pulled her onto the cold, stone ground, slightly hidden by the corner. She was screaming as they had pulled down her clothes. She screamed as they raped her. But no one listened. Not even Orihime. And they left her there, bleeding. And she lay there, waiting. Just waiting.

Orihime wanted to help, more than anything. But she knew that she would just end up like that woman. She would be raped, perhaps killed. She wouldn't be safe. Not unless she hid. And stayed away from Germans.

But that was so much harder than it sounded.

She nodded at her brother. "Yes. I'm sorry."

"Orihime…please, don't think I am mad at you…I am mad at _them_!" Sora said, pulling Orihime into his arms. She clung to him and cried silently into his shoulder. She was sick of this. Sick of feeling like a lost child. Sick of feeling helpless. Sick of feeling that if she went out into the streets of the ghetto that there was a possibility that she would be murdered. She hated this. Hated the war. Hated the Germans for doing this to each and every one of them. Hated them. Hated them.

As if reading her mind, Sora let her go and smiled sadly at her frowning face. It didn't suit her. She was the type of girl who should always smile. And she used to. But those Germans took that away. "I hate them, too. But just wait, they'll lose, and we'll get out of here. Just wait." But Orihime just nodded and stood up, heading into the bedroom. She opened the door and stepped in, closing the door behind her. She stood in front of the door before she moved her feet over to the small night-stand that was beside her and Sora's bed. She opened the top draw, sitting on her bed, and grabbed the small tin that held her most cherished possessions. She opened the lid and pulled out a picture. She held it in her shaking hands.

The picture was at the winter festival, snow was swirling around the two in the picture and lights shone in the background. The two in the picture had near-identical hair. While her eyes shone gray, his melted chocolate. But you could see in both eyes that there was happiness. Happiness as the man kissed her cheek, with a smirk on his lips. There were no traces of sadness in the picture. There were no traces of war. No traces of Germans.

Orihime pressed a hand to her eyes, willing the tears back. But still, she whimpered over the loss of the only man she's ever loved. She whimpered over his death.

"Ichigo…."

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"Grimmjow!"

His father's voice boomed with the usual sickly smoothness and composed tone. Grimmjow turned his head from the window and suppressed a snarl at the man. How could he even call this monster family? It was disgusting.

"What?" He retorted back, pushing himself of the windowsill. He turned to face his father. Realistically, you would never know that they were related. The two held no common traits. His father's hair was long, curly, and brown. His eyes were a brown also, but not a warm brown like you would see on a small child, no. They were cold. Like ice. Grimmjow, unlike his father, had unruly blue hair and blazing blue eyes that held most of his emotion, even if he didn't express it or say it aloud. His father once said the Grimmjow had received his looks from his mother. Although, Grimmjow would never know. His mother had 'died' when he was born. But he was sure that his father had somehow killed her. At that was all the more reason to hate him.

His father smiled at him. "Well, my dear boy, we are being transferred." The man said, clasping a hand over Grimmjow's shoulder. Said boy tensed, but resisted the urge to rip that damned arm right out of its socket.

"Where?" He growled. It was never more then one or two word conversations with this man.

"To the Mainland. We are being transferred to Dachau."

Grimmjow stared up at him in shock, his eyes going wide. Knowing full well what that meant. He may be young, but he wasn't stupid. Or naïve for that matter. He had seen where those trains go, he knew what happened at those camps. Concentration camps. Death camps. He had seen countless Jews, Gypsies, and Greeks, homosexuals, disabled people. He had seen the fear in their eyes as he stood on the sidelines, making sure no one tried to escape. He always thought that at least someone would try. Someone. But no one did. He knew, that if he were in their place, he would have died trying. He would have done anything in order to escape that. They knew, he knew that they knew. How couldn't they? They had seen what happened in their ghettos, couldn't they put two and two together? Or perhaps…they knew that they had no hope in succeeding. Beaten. They were beaten.

Even so, he still asked, "Why?"

"Because they need some help there," _Oh yeah?_ Grimmjow thought. _What kind of help?_ Aizen continued, "and they wanted some of us to go there with them, and let us take the place of others."

"So, we're giving others a break?" Grimmjow snarled out, never having enough patience for this man.

"Yes. We leave tomorrow. Be ready."

And with that, his father left. Grimmjow absent mindedly gave the closed door the finger, wishing it was to the man's face. He grumbled under his breath and returned to sit at the window. He looked over the brick wall, and into the ghetto. He lived only a street away from the gates, he often looked in it, just to see what was happening. He sighed, frustrated and turned his head.

But something caught his eyes.

A head….of orange hair.

He turned his head back towards the ghetto and watched the head…watched the woman. She was wearing heavy clothing, a scarf was wrapped around her neck, covering her chin and nearly her mouth. She was holding a box, and by the way she seemed to be struggling with it, it must have been heavy. She pushed her way through the crowd of Jews and when she reached a stairway, she walked up them, looking around, then opened the door. Looking once more outside, she shut the door.

Grimmjow's frown deepened.

He had seen her before. He knew that head of hair anywhere. But he couldn't bring himself to remember her.

_Oh well, doesn't matter._

He pushed himself from the sill once again and walked to his bedroom, where his suitcase was waiting for him. But he couldn't stop his body as his head turned and looked out the window again.

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Screams. That is what woke Orihime that morning. She jolted up right, looking around, confused. She looked down beside her, her brother was still sleeping. She waited for the screams, and once she heard the language, fear rose up in her gut and she shoved her brother.

"Sora…Sora! Get up, Sora!" She whispered harshly. Sora groaned, but opened his eyes. "What's…" but his question was soon answered when there was a high-pitched scream, a manly yell, and then a gun-shot. Orihime ripped the covers off of her and Sora. The siblings jumped out of bed and picked up their suitcases, packing only necessities. Clothes, some food, and of course, Orihime packed her tin. But just to make sure, she tucked the picture of that winter festival in her bra, knowing that this was the only safe place for her treasures.

Just as they clicked their suitcases shut, three German soldiers burst through the door. Yelling at them and waving their guns, the two siblings followed the men obediently. They followed them out of their apartment. Orihime clung herself to her brother, gripping his arm even tighter each time she saw a dead body, each time she saw someone being shot. She let out a small, strangled cry when she saw the man who sold bread – Ishida Uryu, she thought was his name – being shot in the head. A pink mist sprayed, and covered the cement wall behind him. A gaping hole was left in his skull. He bled out, already dead to the world. Orihime whimpered.

They were rounded up, over 250,000 Jews were rounded up into the waiting station. A cattle train was there. The siblings were pushed into the crowd, their belongings being snatched away from them. Orihime cried out as someone pushed her from behind, she would have fallen, if it weren't for Sora holding her up. They were all pushed, being loaded into the cattle cars. She was the last one to be pulled up, but as the door closed, she saw a head of unusual blue hair. Her eyes widened as a she recalled that hair from somewhere. But she couldn't place it.

The door slammed shut.

Its lock was hammered into place.

And the train jostled forward.

Orihime was pressed against the side of the car, and right then she knew. She knew that they were all being taken away.

Taken to their death.


	2. Pile the Dead

Here is the second chapter. Sorry it was so late, but I had a helluva crazy summer! Anyways, same warnings as the first chapter. Hope you enjoy and please review!

Anyways, I have renamed the story because the new title has significant meaning to both characters, which you will soon find out in the next chapter! So, hope you don't mind, but the new title works better for Orihime and Grimmy.

Note : I have made Orihime around 17, and Grimmjow is 19. The year is 1943.

Disclaimer : I do not own anything.

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_"If we have power, we'll never give it up unless we're carried out of our offices as corpses."_

_- Joseph Goebbels_

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Orihime looked through the crack in the train car. She watched as snow whizzed by. She knew that it was cold outside, but even wearing only a thin coat over her sweater, she was boiling, almost to the point of needing to take off the coat. That's how crowded it was in the car. She was pressed against the far wall, away from the door, and Sora was pressed against her side, holding one arm around her. She watched the other people in the car. She watched them as they sobbed, screamed in distress, curled up against one another. She had also seen some children coughing up blood. They were sick, and it wasn't too long before Orihime and Sora got sick as well.

It had been days, she wasn't sure how many, but it had been long. They have all gone without food or water for as long as they have been on this God-forsaken train. She wasn't sure where they were going. Perhaps Germany. Perhaps Russia. She wasn't sure, but all she knew was that hunger was clawing at her stomach, thirst was the ugly monster tearing out her throat.

"Orihime, are you feeling well?" Sora asked her, turning his head to look sadly at her. She nodded slowly, feeling weak. "Aside from wanting to eat a horse, I feel fine." She replied, knowing that she wasn't feeling sick, drowsy…just…exhausted. She felt as if all of the energy she's ever had has been drained from her very soul – her very being.

Even so, she had the urge to fight….to be freed. As soon as the doors opened, she would run. And if she died trying, then so be it. At least she died with the will to live.

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Grimmjow stared out of the window of the truck. It was snowing, and snowing hard. A thin white cloak layered the ground, making it look peaceful. Grimmjow scoffed internally. Like anything in the goddamned world was peaceful.

They had been traveling for only four hours, but it felt like days. It dragged on, with nothing but trees, destroyed villages, and people begging on the street. You could say that Grimmjow was disturbed, but that was a damn understatement. He was disgusted, and wanted to get out, leave, maybe go to America. But he couldn't. And besides, who would accept an SS officer in their country after this? No one.

They were keeping pace with the train, since it wasn't going extremely fast, keeping at a 25 miles per hour. They were nearing a stop, to clear out any dead bodies, which he knew there would be. But that stop, it had to be near the middle of no-where. No where near where someone would see. Especially someone who would say something about it. Ha, who was he kidding? They would probably just shoot them if they took off running.

Grimmjow set his jaw as he saw the train skidding to a stop. He clenched his teeth together and fisted his hands. He was so powerless. And it made him sick. He watched as the other trucks stopped. Other SS officers jumped out of their seats, marching around, talking and laughing with each other. He wanted to punch each and everyone of the bastards.

"Grimmjow, will you not come and help?"

Grimmjow turned and glared at the man's back. His father may have asked it in a questioning tone, but it sure as hell was not a question. He muttered something unintelligent under his breath and pushed the door open, sliding easily out of the truck, slamming the door behind him. Just to make the point that he wasn't happy about this. But his father had learned to ignore him, even when he was unintentionally disrespecting the Führer. Grimmjow did that quite often.

He stood, in front of the cattle cars, his rifle in hand, and watched as other soldiers unlatched the doors and slid them open. A sudden disgust overwhelmed his stomach. A few women and men fell out of the cars, being released of the confined spaces. The fell, and no one helped them up. Why would they? They're scum. Low-lives. Not worth the effort. The Jews stood up on their own, heads held high. Grimmjow willed them to try and run. Escape. But he knew they wouldn't. And even if they did, it would only get them killed.

"Alright," Gin, Aizen's right hand man called, waving his pistol around. The sick grin never leaving his lips. "Get any dead bodies and chuck 'em."

Grimmjow followed and walked towards the back of the train. He glanced at each car as he walked by. Some were crying, pleading. A woman cried over the body of a small child as it was dumped into the pile of bodies. It stank like urine and sweat, even now with air flowing through the cars, it stank to high heaven. Grimmjow's brow furrowed even more. He reached the end car, looking in, he saw nothing but fear and hopelessness. He rested one hand on the door of the car and called into the car. "Any dead, bring them forward!"

And that's when someone let out a strangled cry. He looked, slightly alarmed at the sound and saw a small woman with black hair and big violet eyes crying over a large man with the equally black hair. There was a trail of blood coming from his lips, flies buzzed by him, stopping, then buzzed again. The man was obviously dead. Still, the girl cried and a man with unusual bright red hair that was pulled back, wrapped an arm around her as she wept.

Grimmjow was so surprised to see so many dead just after four hours. Then again, typhus traveled fast. And they were most likely already malnourished that being enclosed with many other sick people just added onto the chances of them dying.

A short man, who Grimmjow could only assume was no older than ten, pulled the dead man forward. The short man looked at Grimmjow as he pushed the dead man to the front of the car with hard teal eyes. There was nothing but hate in them. And the want to murder, kill for blood. Grimmjow understood that feeling. The wanting to hurt.

To kill.

Grimmjow took the man's body and carried him out of the cart, placing him on the ground. He returned to the car and looked up. But soon regretted doing so. There, staring at him with huge gray eyes was the girl with the orange hair. The girl that he had seen as he stared out his window. He stared at her now, feeling a some sort of wrenching in his chest. But as soon as he blinked, she was gone.

She bolted from the cart, running.

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Orihime stared at the man with blue hair. Her heart thumped in her chest as his beautiful blue eyes stared back at her. There was so much emotion in those eyes – emotion that didn't show on his face. But as he stared at her, there was only one thought that was running through her mind.

Escape. Escape.

And before she could even stop herself or grab Sora, she pushed her stiff legs up and leaped out of the train cart. Her legs were running as soon as they hit the ground. She didn't look back, knowing if she did she would see the bullet coming at her. She didn't hear the yells of the others. She didn't even hear her brother's scream. She didn't hear the gunshots. She didn't hear anything as the giddiness of her accomplishment rattled her brain. There was a humming in her ears, she didn't know what it was. She guessed that it was the wind rushing against her. Cold snow pelted her face, blinding her. It didn't matter. She was free. Free. She ran. Ran as fast as she could.

She ran until someone tackled her to the ground. She fought him, trying to escape him. She thrashed, clawed, bit – anything – to get away from the weight that was weighing her down. She kept her eyes closed, though. She didn't want to see his face, didn't want to know the face of her killer. He struggled with her, trying to pin her to the snowy ground. She still fought him, seeking escape.

She struggled for her life. That is….until she heard the click of a gun.

Her eyes shot open and a barrel of a pistol stared back at her. But there was something else that caught her eye, other than the monstrous thing glaring down at her. It was blue hair. And a very pained face.

Her fear soon turned into confusion. She watched the man, her hands fisted against his chest. Why didn't he shoot her while she was running? Why didn't he kill her? She was an escapee. That's what happened to people who tried to escape. They were killed. So why was she still breathing?

They were both panting, just looking at each other, when the man pressed the gun to her temple. Orihime shook, knowing she was going to die now. Of course, he wouldn't spare her. Why would he? He was just a German. A goddamn Nazi.

She waited for him to shoot.

Dared him to.

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The girl with the bright orange hair stared up at him with big gray eyes. They were full of fear. But they were also full of determination. He didn't know what else to do when she ran. He had chased after her, tackled her, and the only way he could stop her struggles was if he pointed a gun in her face. And that is exactly what he had done.

He wasn't sure why she wasn't screaming at him. Why she wasn't begging for her life. It was like she was daring him to shoot her as he pressed his pistol against her temple. All he wanted to do was scare her. Not kill her. No. Because if he killed an innocent woman, it would prove that he was like that son of a bitch father of his. He didn't want that. He would not show him the satisfaction that he was winning. No. Never.

They stared at each other for a while, and the gun in his hand felt slightly heavier than before.

"Are you going to kill me, or not?"

His attention whipped back to her as her language pierced through his ears. He looked at her with shocked eyes, but then he narrowed them at her.

"Shut up." He removed the safety from the gun and cocked it. "Do you want me to shoot you?"

"No." She said, lifting a hand and covering his, pulling it (and the gun) away from her head. "And besides, you would not have done it anyways."

Sudden anger flared in his chest and he slammed his forearm against her throat.

" 'The fuck you know, bitch?" He growled at her.

And the fear was back as she gagged. But he couldn't kill her. He snarled under his breath and let his arm off her throat. He eased up off of her and pulled her to her feet. She was still coughing as he shoved her back towards the cart.

Her head twirled around, shocked. "They will kill me! Please, I…."

"They won't know the difference between you and another. I already let out a few shots. They will not know you are alive." He heaved her back into the cart. She fell in, sprawled on the floor, the men behind her catching her.

He glared at her. "If you don't pull something like that again, you may just have a chance at surviving." And he pulled the door closed, locking it, blocking out her outraged scream.

He stared at the door, somewhat day-dreaming, until a voice cracked through the silence.

"Grimmjow, I hope you do not mind it here."

Grimmjow turned and saw a mere soldier standing, shivering in the snow. Grimmjow scoffed and stuck his chin in the air.

"Why?"

"The train is having difficulties. We are going to be here for a while."


	3. Things My Heart Used to Know

Ahhh, well, here it is, the third chapter! Thank you all for the amazing reviews!

Anyways, this chapter is longer and it kind of gives some background to Grimmjow's old life. And this also explains the meaning to the new title. Anyways, please enjoy and review! ^.^

Disclaimer : I do not own anything, except for original characters.

Warning : Story includes sex, gore, violence, and language. Please do not read if this insults, or you can't stomach it. Thank you!

Note : Any questions about the year, or anything like that, just put it into a review and I'll answer it!

Enjoy!

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_"When I came into power, I did not want the concentration camps to become old age pensioneer's homes, but instruments of terror."_

_- Adolf Hitler_

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As soon as the door locked, Orihime screamed. At the man, at the door, at herself. She didn't know. But she screamed and pounded her fists against the door that locked her in this hell. She could feel the tears coming, and tried desperately to hold them back. She knew she would look weak if she cried. But then again….everyone else was crying as well. What did it matter if she cried?

She let out the first sob and it hurt, letting it out of her clammed up throat. But the next ones came easily. She sobbed as she slowly fell to the floor, hugging her legs into her chest. She wasn't even sure why she was crying. She was upset at herself for getting caught. But she had known it would happen. So it didn't surprise her. She wasn't sad, either. And she didn't know why. But the emotion curling in her gut was anger. Anger that the man had let her live.

She was crazy to be angry with a man who saved her life, but she was. Horribly angry with the blue haired man.

"Orihime…..Are you alright?" Sora's voiced slammed through her thoughts. She looked behind her shoulder and he was there, a concerned look on his face. Of course he was concerned, why wouldn't he be?

She felt more tears come as he wrapped her in an embrace. Tight and secure.

She knew that he didn't know what to say. She didn't know what to say either. They just sat there, holding each other. They both cried. Sora cried for his sister, knowing she was alright, crying for the fact that he had almost lost his only family. He cried knowing that his sister was in pain.

Orihime….she was a different story.

She cried, yes, but her tears were a promise to herself. A promise to get out of this hell alive. To save her brother. To live.

But most of all, a promise to see that man again.

The man with the blue hair.

* * *

Grimmjow couldn't understand the feeling that was eating away at his stomach. He didn't know what it was. Fear? No, what was he scared of? Angst? Maybe. A possibility. But not likely. He ran through the emotions that he had felt all his life, and found that none of them never really fit the feeling he was experiencing now. But then one, he knew that was it.

Guilt.

For what? That was the question. Fuck, he didn't know! He was hardly ever guilty. Only ever once did he feel this way and that was suck a long time ago….

He shook the thought from his hand and shoved his hands into his pockets, digging his chin into his chest to avoid the cold wind. He walked around the train, making sure the Jews were behaving. He wanted nothing more than to sleep, but he knew even if he had a bed, he wouldn't be able to. Not with that girl's face on his mind.

He hissed out a breath and looked over to the tents at the far end of the small valley. He could hear their laughs, their drunken talk, and he felt sick.

He snarled under his breath and continued walking around the train.

Apparently, the train's engine was frozen, it being one of the coldest winters Grimmjow had ever been in. And they had to wait until engineers cam to fix it. His father had said that it would be about a five day – to a week's – wait. Fucking Christ.

Grimmjow cupped his hands together and blew in them, creating warmth. He rubbed them together, trying to get the feeling back into his fingers. He wrapped his arms around himself as he walked towards the end of the train. He could hear them crying, begging to be let out. He tried so hard not to let them free. He couldn't do that. He couldn't.

But once he reached the last train car, he stopped in front of the door. He couldn't explain why. He stopped and listened. He wanted to hear her voice, wanted to see her.

_No! Don't think of her! Stop!_ A voice inside his head raged at him.

Grimmjow shook his head, clearing out the voice. He did want to see her again, he would not deny that. He felt a pull to her, but he could not see her. They were different. She was scum. He was power. Even so, he felt his hand twitch, wanting to touch her. He cursed himself. These feelings he was getting were unwanted. Severely. He wanted to crush them into the ground. Pour acid on them, burn them, and char them. Obliterate them.

Kill them. He wanted to kill them so he would never feel this way again.

But that's when he heard it.

Her voice.

He whipped his head towards the car and listened.

* * *

"Excuse me, do you know a song?"

Orihime opened her tired eyes and looked at the small man that had spoken to her. He was short, but he did not look young. He had ridiculous white hair that was spiked, and his cold teal eyes stared at her. She was shocked by his question, but she looked around him, seeing a small girl with raven hair clinging to the short man's arm. She was coughing, her eyes squeezed tightly shut.

She smiled sadly at the man. "I think I could find one in my mind." She thought she saw a small smile on the boy's lips but if there was, it was gone quickly. She watched him as he pulled the girl into his lap and held her tightly. She wondered if they were siblings. Or perhaps friends. Or maybe even lovers. But they were so young. Orihime couldn't help the prick that she felt behind her eyes knowing that these children are going to be killed. For nothing. They did nothing to deserve this.

The boy looked up at her while stroking the girl's hair. Orihime tapped a finger to her chin and thought about which song to sing to the children. Finally she came up with one.

"I thought of one, but I have a question for you first." She said to the young boy. He looked up at her, his eyes going wide.

"What?"

"What is your name?" She asked, simply curious.

"Toshiro Hitsugaya." He said, almost proudly. Then he looked down at the girl in his lap. "This is Hinamori. Hinamori Momo." He stated, and Orihime saw the faint loving smile appear on his lips. She smiled at the two, knowing at least they had each other through this.

"Alright." She whispered. "My mother sang this to me when I was a child. Listen carefully."

And she began to sing to them, hoping it would bring them comfort. Praying that it would settle her own raging thoughts.

_Dancing bears  
Painted wings;  
__Things I almost remember,  
__And a song someone sings;  
__Once upon a December._

She watched as the girl's – Momo – breathing soothed down, relaxing. She smiled as she saw Toshiro's eyes start to droop close. She closed her own eyes and thought of her mother. Her father. And the man who had sung this to her when she cried. The man who had loved her.

_Someone holds me safe and warm,  
__Horses prance through a silver storm,  
__Figures dancing gracefully,  
__Across my memory;  
__Far away,  
__Long ago,  
__Glowing dim as an ember,  
__Something my heart used to know;  
__Once upon a December…._

She couldn't help but trail off, falling asleep. But as she slept she dreamed. Everything was colorful, wonderful, beautiful. She was dancing with her orange-haired prince. Swaying to the music. They were dressed in gowns and robes, suits and ties. She smiled lovingly at the man holding her in his arms. He smiled back, his amber eyes shinning.

* * *

Grimmjow listened to her sing, silently singing the words in his head. He knew this song. He knew it from a very long time ago. _She_ used to sing it to him. _She_ used to sing that exact song as they layed in the soft grassy meadow. And suddenly, he was thrown back into the past.

* * *

"_Come on, Kitty!" He voice rang out, high and sweet. He ran after her, trying not to trip over his newly long legs. He had just gone through a growth spurt, and he wasn't quite used to his now-tall eight year-old body. _

"_Stop calling me Kitty, damn it!" He had learned the word from his father's friend, Gin. He felt cool using it, knowing that his best friend didn't know what it meant. _

_Still, he chased her until they reached the river – the one they had found when the had first met. _

_She turned her head, smiling at him. "Never! It's too cute!" She giggled and ran straight towards the river. He jumped after her, sliding down the hill. He nearly tripped and fell, but he steadied himself before she saw. He glanced at her before pumping his legs and tackling her to the ground. _

_She let out a squeal and erupted in a fit of giggles._

"_Kitty! You caught me." She smiled up at him. He smiled back at his friend._

"_Yeah. The kitty caught the mouse."_

* * *

Then the scene switched as Grimmjow pushed his legs forward, feeling sick. He couldn't think, couldn't feel. He picked up his pace as more memories flooded through him.

* * *

_He was eleven years old. And he ran to her house, wanting to tell his friend about the exciting news. He knocked frantically on her door, wearing his new Hitler Youth uniform. She would see him as soon as she opened the door. She would hug him and congratulate him. She would give him her famous smile. _

"_Rosie, come on, I have something to tell….."_

_The door suddenly swung open, revealing Grimmjow's dear friend. She was clad in he nightgown that flowed to her knees, and she stared at him with blurry eyes. Sudden fear and concern plunged into his heart. _

"_Rosie... What's…"_

"_What are you wearing?" She glared at him. Her small frame was trembling in anger and Grimmjow didn't understand why. He looked at her, his blue eyes wide and staring. He didn't understand. Wasn't she happy for him? Only some children his age got in, and he had made it! Wasn't she proud of him?_

_He furrowed his brow, annoyed. "Hitler Youth uniform. What does it look like?" He nearly snarled at her. He was mad now, thinking that she didn't even congratulate him on his success. _

_But that's when she fell to the floor and erupted into tears. Grimmjow's anger disappeared and he rushed to her, pulling her into his chest, wrapping his arms around her frail form. _

"_Varda," He spoke her real name and she looked up from his shoulder, sobbing. "Rosie, what happened? What's wrong?" He looked at her face as fresh tears came to her eyes. He couldn't understand why she was so upset. Adolf Hitler had won the elections only two years back. They were going to be saved. They were going to be alright. Why was she so upset?_

"_H-He….We….I-I-I…" She hiccupped through her sentence and he could comprehend what she was saying, but he waited for her to catch her breath and finish what she was saying. _

_Finally, she took a deep breath and looked up at him. But she still couldn't say anything. She reached behind her and grabbed the newspaper laying on the floor. He watched her, watched her as she let out more sobs, more tears. And as she handed him the paper, as he read, he began to cry. _

_**"Kill the Rats! Be Rid of the Jews!"**_

* * *

Grimmjow felt like throwing up, and he did, falling to his knees, holding his stomach. He vomited over the snow. He coughed and slumped backwards against a rock. He didn't know where he ran to, but it was far away. But not far enough.

It was never far enough.

* * *

"_Rosie! Rosie!" His voice was desperate as he raced through the forest. He had seen her run, escape, but he needed to follow her, needed to make sure she would be safe until he could take her away._

_It was dark, and he knew that her mother and father and brother would be glad she had escaped before the raid. And who would miss her? No one. But they would look for her. He knew that they would. _

"_Rosie! Goddamn it, Varda, where are you?" He snarled out, trying to fight his way through the trees and bush. Then he heard a quiet sob. _

"_Kitty?" _

_And he ran faster than he ever had before. He reached her though, and he didn't stop his pace as he ran towards her, and she to him. They slammed together in a tight embrace. She buried her face into the crook of his neck and clung to him for dear life. They held on to each other, not wanting to let go. _

_Finally, she looked up and smiled at him. "Kitty found me." She said, bringing a hand to his cheek. He closed his eyes and smiled at her. _

"_Always. The kitty will always find the mouse." _

_And he crushed his lips to hers with a moan. _

_It happened fast, at least the first part happened fast. Before Grimmjow knew what was happening, he was hovering above her naked body. He was shaking with anticipation, she was shaking with it, too, but as well as nervousness. He leaned down and kissed her gently. _

"_Grimmjow…." She whispered as he pulled his lips away. _

"_Hmm?" He hummed, smiling at her. _

"_I…I'm scared." She admitted, a blush rising on her cheeks. He kissed her forehead and brushed back her hair. _

"_So am I. You forget that this is also my first." He smiled softly at her and she kissed him gingerly on the lips. Gave him permission. _

"_Are you sure, Varda?" He hushed, finding her lips once again. She nodded her head and pushed her hips up, wrenching a moan from her Kitty. _

"_Yes. Make love to me." She nearly demanded, and he complied. _

_Pushing into her, he covered her mouth with his own to swallow her cry of pain. He stopped, waiting for her to adjust. But he found it rather difficult. Soon, she was moving her hips up, motioning him to move. _

_And, God, did he ever. _

_He slammed into her, wanting to find what so many boys his age talked about. But somehow, he felt so much more than they had. He knew he did. Because he loved her. And she loved him. _

_He ducked his forehead onto her shoulder as she moaned for him. He let out a snarl, pushing deeper inside of her. She begged for him, pleaded. And he had no choice but to oblige. _

"_Gr –ah! – p-p-lease! Fa…oh!" _

"_Varda….Fuck, Varda!" _

_Her hands sought purchase, but Grimmjow caught them, entwining them with his and pushed them above her head, continuing to thrust into her. Her moans became louder, and he found himself mimicking her sounds. Cursing more, yes, but he was moaning, nearly screaming for her. And soon, he felt it, that…_thing_…that curled and tightened in the pit of his stomach. He knew what this meant, and he felt the need to say it._

"_Varda…Shit, I-I'm….I'm g-gonna…." His words died of in a throaty moan as he hit is climax. His friend screamed out his name and writhed beneath him. He jerked, and they rode out their orgasms. _

_He collapsed on top of her, the pair panting. She ran a hand through his cyan hair and kissed his cheek. He smiled into her neck and kissed it gently. _

"_I love you, Grimmjow." And he kissed her. And finally gathered the courage to tell her his response. _

"_Varda?" He whispered_

"_Hmm?" _

"…_I love you."_

_She smiled at him and sang her favorite part to the song she always sang. The song she always sang to him. Their song._

"_Someone holds me safe and warm  
Horses prance through a silver storm  
Figures dancing gracefully  
Across my memory  
Far away, long ago  
Glowing dim as an ember  
Things my heart used to know  
Things it yearns to remember  
And a song someone sings  
Once upon a December….."_

_And they both drift to sleep, waiting for tomorrow. _

* * *

Grimmjow couldn't believe his thoughts. Where had they come from? Why now? Why no, Goddamn it! He curled into a ball and dug his hands into his hair, wanting to rip it out. Shutting his eyes tightly, his dug his nails into his skull, wanting to draw blood. Hoping he would. But after calming his heart down, after pushing back the tears he hadn't shed since that day, he pulled himself together, lifting himself off the ground, and he walked back towards the camp.


	4. Nothing But A Dream

Ugh, sorry this took so so long to get out, school and basketball have been insane! I'll try to get more chappies out soon! So sorry for the wait, but thank you all for staying with this story and posting reviews!

Disclaimer : I do not own anything.

Warning : Holocaust violence, mature themes, if you cannot handle, please do not read!

Enjoy and please review!

* * *

_"Our dead are never dead to us, until we have forgotten them"_

_- George Elliot_

* * *

Orihime woke to the sound of bitter chatter, and comical laughter. She slowly opened her eyes and wished she hadn't. The train car door slid open and clanged against the wall. She flinched at the loud crack it made. Everyone in the cart stared at the bright light that shone in through the now-open door. Figures stood there, and sudden panic raced through Orihime. She clutched Nel – a small child who had cuddle to her the night before – to her chest and waited for instructions. But when the light finally dimmed, she saw who was standing in front of the cart.

It was the blue-haired man.

Sudden panic and a slight relief flooded into her mind and gut. Was he coming to kill her? Did he come back to finish off what he hadn't before? Did he come to kill the others in the train with her?

She clutched Nel even closer to her.

But as she stared at him, he only looked away, glaring at something in the distance. Orihime wondered if he was missing someone, a girl, perhaps. But at the thought, her chest tightened and she found it rather hard to breathe. She pushed the thought away and shook her head lightly.

"Alright! There have been some delays…" A very high voice rang out. It sounded scary. Almost sadistic. Orihime squinted her eyes to try and figure out what the man looked like. But this was another thing she would regret. As soon as she laid her eyes and the man, he caught her gaze, and an animalistic grin crossed her face as his eyes traveled down to her chest.

And he was not staring at Nel.

Orihime flinched inwardly and cowered into Renji's – a man with strange red hair that she had also met last night – chest. He wrapped an arm around her. For his other arm was wrapped securely around Rukia.

"The train, you see, has broken down." The voice called out, you could hear the smile in it. "You'll be given a bucket of water every three days that we are here. That bucket will be for you to share with the rest of your cart. You will also be given two loaves of bread each day to also share with your cart. Enjoy!"

Orihime felt her eyes sting and she squeezed them shut, wanting to block everything out. She just wanted to go home. She wanted to be back with her mama and papa. She wanted to run around in the park, her hair blowing behind her.

_Foolish_, she thought to herself, almost scolding herself. This could never happen. Never again.

She flinched as the train door was slammed shut. Toshiro and Momo were gripping her hands, nearly cutting of the circulation. She didn't mind. She hugged Nel close to her as Renji pulled herself and Rukia closer to him. Orihime could feel him shaking, whether it was in rage or in sorrow, she didn't know.

She closed her eyes and tried to drown out the cries of the others.

…..

…..

…..

…..

…..

…

…

…

Grimmjow sat, hunched over, leaning against his bed, with a cigarette dangling from his lips. He was still shaken up from the flashbacks he had had last night. The flashbacks that were the cause of all of his grief, his anger. And the urge to kill his father.

"Fuck…" He groaned out, pinching the cig out of his mouth and blowing smoke into the frosty air. He rubbed a hand over his face and sighed deeply.

He didn't want to remember those memories, he wanted to forget them, he never wanted to remember her smiling face, her laugh, her beautiful eyes, her moaning underneath him.

No, stop. Stop it.

He pinched the bridge of his nose and squeezed his eyes shut.

"Grimmjow."

Said man lifted his head and a deep scowl formed on his face as his cerulean eyes fixating on emerald orbs.

"Ulquiorra." He greeted back, his eyes never leaving the man. Ulquiorra had been Grimmjow's enemy – almost friend – since he was a little boy. They had met in their classes of Hitler Youth. Although most would consider them friends, they never saw eye to eye, or agreed on anything for that matter. And somehow they made everything into a challenge.

"I saw you run to the woods the other night. May I ask your reason?" Ulquiorra asked bluntly. He was never one to converse in small talk.

Grimmjow glared at him and rubbed his face again with his hands in frustration.

"No. No you may not 'ask me my reason'." Grimmjow mocked him.

"Do not mock me, fool."

Grimmjow was over to him in a flash, he had him by the collar and pulled him flush to his face.

"Who you callin' a fool, asshole?" He snarled into Ulquiorra's face.

Before Ulquiorra could respond with a blunt, but witty response, a lesser soldier popped his head into to tent, completely ignoring the state that the two young boys were in.

"Captain Aizen said that it is your round tonight, Grimmjow." With a quick salute, he left the tent. Grimmjow snarled under his breath and let Ulquiorra on the ground.

"We may not like each other, but I do not hate you." Ulquiorra stated as Grimmjow marched out of the tent. The blue haired man frowned at the Bat over his shoulder. He looked at the man – his borderline friend – and realized that in fact, they were just like brothers. Always fighting, but closer than two people could get.

Although he would never tell Ulquiorra that.

"We'll finish this later, Bat."

…..

…..

…..

…..

…..

…..

…..

…

Orihime didn't know what time it was, but it felt as if hours had passed. Nel was still cradled in her arms, fast asleep, and the bodies around her were starting to, one by one, fall into a deep sleep.

She leaned her head back onto the scratchy wood and closed her eyes. It smelled horrible in here, and the tiny piece of bread that she had been given did not give her the energy she was used to having. She wished she was back in the ghetto. Hmm. Strange, she thought, how I long to go back to the one place I truly hate.

She opened her eyes a slit and found Sora on the other side of the cart, telling a story to some of the younger children. He was coughing, and Orihime prayed that he wasn't getting sick.

But she couldn't help the smile that came to her lips as all of the children stared up at him in awe, as the intently listened to his story about dragons, princess and princes.

Nel stirred in her arms and Orihime hushed her back into a calm sleep. Leaning her head back once again to rest against the wood, Orihime found her body relaxing, and falling into sleep.

_"Orihime…..y-y-you look….beautiful" His cheeks burned scarlet as she looked at him. She giggled, bringing her hand up to cover her mouth, not wanting to be rude._

_"You look very handsome as well." She told him, a blush finding its way to her cheeks. The orange haired man simply grabbed her hand and dragged her forward, into the busy streets of the festival._

_She couldn't help but marvel at how their hands touched. The man she loved was holding her hand. Inside her head, she was squealing with joy like a young girl would do if she had met someone famous._

_It was the annual festival to celebrate the Rosh Hashanah – the celebration of the New Year. This festival would include dances, lights, music, and – Orihime's favorite part – excellent food. And of course, it was a time where she could fit into a beautiful dress her brother had bought her for the occasion._

_The couple walked around, smiles never leaving their faces, as they laughed at each other's jokes, ate far too much food, and danced while the moonlight shone over their heads. All was good, perfect, until a loud voice sounded out._

_"Polizei, das ist die Polizei! Bleiben wo sei sind!" (Police, this is the Police! Stay where you are!)_

_Orihime looked up from Ichigo's chest, worry creasing her brow. She looked up at her lover with concern. His face was contorted with panic and worry._

_"Ichigo….?" She murmured. He looked down at her, his chocolate brown eyes wide as dinner plates. He took her hand and all at once, everyone started running. Fleeing. Waving around like chickens with their heads cut off. Ichigo was pulling Orihime along, trying to get into the forest._

_She tried to keep a hold on his hand, she did, but someone bumped into her and she fell, Ichigo's hand falling away from hers. She tried to get up, but she was always pushed down._

_"Orihime!?" She heard his voice call for her, but she could not see his beautiful, strange, orange hair._

_"Ichigo?" Her voice was growing into hysterics. "Ichigo! Ichigo!"_

_"Orihime! Answer me, damn it!"_

_"Ichigo!" She cried, pushing herself on her wobbly feet, but was knocked down as a man ran straight into her._

_"Orihime! Please! Orihime!"_

_All the while, the Germans shouted, people screamed._

_It was wild. But it grew so out of hand and frantic as a gunshot rung in Orihime's ears._

_Still kneeling painfully on the ground, she looked over her shoulder and saw a man's body laying in a pool of blood._

_She screamed._

_"Orihime!"_

_Strong arms pulled her up by her armpits. Still in shock, she clung to the man with familiar scent. She stared at the dead man as the orange haired man ran with her in his arms._

_Another gun shot sounded out and the two lovers flinched, Orihime digging her face into Ichigo's strong shoulder._

_Gunshots rang out endlessly, screams, cries; everywhere._

_Germans._

_What had they done wrong to deserve this? Orihime thought viciously, letting the sobs wrack her body._

_But then a sudden thought overwhelmed her._

_Sora._

_Sora!_

_She pushed against Ichigo, "We have to get….we have to find Sora! Please!" She shrieked at him, hysteria controlling her emotions._

_"We are not going back there! We can't we'll be shot!" He screamed back at her, never stopping his pace. Orihime struggled in his arms. She wasn't thinking rationally, she didn't care what was back there, she had to get her brother. The only family she had left. That was all that mattered now._

_"Let…me….down!" She squirmed in her lover's hold, but he held firm._

_He couldn't loose her. Not now._

_"No. We have to get into the forest."_

_"Not without…Sora!" She yelled, still struggling, and their momentum took the two young lovers tumbling onto the ground. They rolled, hitting rocks, hitting stubs of left-over bushes. Ichigo clung to Orihime, and she wouldn't let go of his torso._

_The tumbled, flipped, until they came crashing into the river below them._

_The current was strong, strong enough to tear Ichigo from Orihime's grasp. The current pushed her underwater, but when she resurfaced, she could not spot the orange haired man she so dearly loved._

_"Ichigo!"_

_The water rolled her over, like some sort of rag doll._

_"Ichigo!" She spluttered as she gulped in air._

_"Orihime!"_

_She looked around frantically and saw orange hair bobbing towards her._

_"Ichigo! Ichigo!"_

_"Orihime, grab my hand!"_

_She tried, oh did she try, but the water pulled her down._

_"Ichigo!" She screamed as water filled her lungs._

_"Orihime!"_

_..._

_..._

_..._

_..._

"Orihime! Orihime!"

Her gray orbs snapped open as someone was shaking her. She felt the tears stream down her face as she was pressed into a warm chest.

She couldn't hear anything but the rushing of the water and her former lover's scream as her brother and the others tried to sooth her.

Nothing but the final look on his face stretched across her vision as she cried like the day she found out he had died.

* * *

Please review and hope you enjoyed!


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